


Handprints on Scorched Skin

by Friendly_Faun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Extreme AU, Implied Slash, Insanity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Trauma, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:31:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Friendly_Faun/pseuds/Friendly_Faun
Summary: The war between the Separatists and the Republic is fought as much on battleground as on the holonet. It was a war of propaganda and defamation. Now, the Separatists is about to deal a heavy blow to the Republic’s morale – they have captured Obi-Wan Kenobi, and they are going to break him. In front of the entire Republic’s viewing audience.Obi-Wan is in for a very rough day.Little does anyone know, the General's publicized captivity and torture are about to change the course of the Galactic conflict. In the meanwhile, it was up to Obi-Wan's fellow Jedi to pick up the pieces.





	1. Obi-Wan

**Author's Note:**

> Warning:  
> This story contained rape, torture, humiliation and suicidal thoughts. The author does not endorse any of these things, and recommends immediate counseling should anyone feel discomfited from reading this story. There is no better time to back out than the present, if any of the above might set you off.
> 
> Also, this fic is unbetaed.
> 
> This is my first time writing erotica. All feedbacks are welcome and will be appreciated. Tell me what you like, what you didn't like, and how I could make it better. :)

A stabbing pain from his right forearm filtered through the fogs in Obi-Wan’s mind. He focused on it, using the uncomfortable sensation to pulled himself from unconsciousness. The last thing he remembered was of taking multiple hits on his fighter’s wings during a dogfight. He was obviously not in his fighter now, nor any place near the battlefield, judging by the utter silence and sterile scents of his surroundings.

He must have been captured. As his mind cleared up more Obi-Wan realized he was bound by the wrists, upper arms, calves and ankles against some metal poles; the position was uncomfortable, but not painful.

He then found the familiar weight of his utility belt, complete with lightsaber, to be missing. Another spasm of pain and a trickle of wetness from his right arm informed Obi-Wan that he was injured in at least one place. As he did not know where he was, he remained motionless and reached for the Force – only to find it inaccessible. Everything beside his own small reserve was cut off from his senses.

_Sithly Hell, they used another Force dampener on me again._

“Good evening, General Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open.

A tall, masked human male gazed back at him. The eyes behind the tight-fitting plasteel mask were sharp and blue. The man appeared powerful, broad-chested and athletic. He was bare-handed, though Obi-Wan had no doubt the long folds of dark robe the man wore concealed many weapons. The two of them appeared to be alone in a large, featureless room. There was no entry, no window, no ventilation shafts. Nothing to be used as weapon or cover.

 _Brilliant. Interrogation and torture. Just what I needed to brighten up my day._ Drawing upon his inner reserve of calmness, Obi-Wan spoke, “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Knight of the Coruscant Jedi Temple, High General of the 212 th attack battalion. Holding war prisoner can be subjected to legal persecution under the Convention of Civilized Systems.”

The man did not reply. He just leveled another cool stare at Obi-Wan.

At this point, Obi-Wan was becoming increasingly aware of his bodily discomfort – something that hardly happened when he could release unwelcome sensations into the Force. The room was too warm. Sweat began beading on Obi-Wan’s forehead and collect in his beard, yet simultaneously he had to fight the urge to shiver. He felt disoriented. It was almost as if he caught a fever.

“You still have no idea what I have done to you.” The man’s soft voice broke through Obi-Wan’s frantic catalogue of his physical weakness. Obi-Wan was disturbed that he allowed mere sensations to distract himself from giving complete focus the most immediate threat in the room. His captor continued on, seemingly oblivious to Obi-Wan’s mounting alarm: “I have removed your hormone implant.” 

 _I am being sent into a Heat!_ Obi-Wan did not even attempt to hide his utter shock at the man’s pronouncement. He turned his head, craning to see his right arm, which was held levelly away from his body. His sleeve was torn, and from his position Obi-Wan could see white bandage beginning to turn pink from blood.

Obi-Wan suddenly became aware of his hypersensitivity. The air was cool against his clavicles where his lapel had loosened due to earlier struggle. His linen clothes, normally soft from years of use, suddenly seemed like sandpaper against his legs and arms. His ears picked up every nuanced sound, from his own harsh breathing to the rustles of the man’s robes. Even worse, he could smell the body scent of an Alpha. The unique scent seemed to trigger some mechanism in his body, for all his previous aches suddenly doubled.  

“I will not break,” Obi-Wan spat out, furious and disbelieving. “I will not betray the people I serve. I will not give up any information. I may not be able to stop you, but I will not make it easy for you.”

Although the mask hid all of the man’s expression, Obi-Wan could hear the smirk in the man’s voice as clearly as if he saw it. “Brave words, General, but it is not information I am after.” Abruptly the man stepped forward until he was almost touching him. A rough, strong-boned hand landed on Obi-Wan’s stomach, trailed up his torso, and stopped just over his heart.

“I am here to call you fraud, Master Kenobi, you who sit on the Jedi Council and lead the Republic’s army. You have hold onto your image well. Detached. Unfeeling. Untouchable. You act as though you’re above needs and wants.” The hand shifted, brushing delicately against Obi-Wan’s left nipple. “Today I plan on tearing through your mystical façade. Today I will expose you as the unbonded Omega whore you are!”

 _Unbonded Omega whore_. Obi-Wan was not unfamiliar with the slur, but he had not been called so since he had been old enough to receive the implant. He was caught off-guard by how dirty it made him feel.

Now aware that he was being holo-filmed, Obi-Wan called up three decades of mental discipline to ignore both the barb in the man’s words and the heat rolling beneath his skin. “9.35% of human population population consists of Omegas,” he stated coolly. “Sexual or bonding status have no bearing on a being’s dedication or competence. I have never pretended to be other than who I am. I have personal reasons for remaining unbonded.”

“You may keep talking. I, on the other hand, will enjoy making you eat your words. Mark me, Obi-Wan Kenobi: I will make you beg.”

His captors stepped away, his eyes alight with amusement.

“I will see you in a few hours.”


	2. Anakin

It had been four hours since Anakin Skywalker had been summoned into the emergency Council meeting. They were the four longest hours he had ever endured.

One holo-projection dominated the center of the Council Chamber: his master, kidnapped by the CIS; arms and legs spread out and cuffed against sturdy metal scaffold; sweat running down his face and into his shirt; eyes shut and chest heaving as he battled the Heat.

Anakin averted his eyes when he realized he had been staring at the bulge in front of Obi-Wan’s trousers. He consciously loosened his clenched fists, trying to dispel the rage that threatened to overwhelm him.

At this moment, the exact same holo-recording was being broadcasted on every major Republic news channel. The Sappies were clever. They understood the one thing that would undermine Republic Army’s morale, and they were on their way toward accomplishing it.

In the privacy of his mind Anakin cursed the Council for assigning his master to this perilous battle alone, Obi-Wan for accepting it without protest, the Sith for starting the war and the Separatists for being these cowardly assholes. If only he had been there to cover Obi-Wan's back. Then perhaps none of these would've happened.  

Eleven Councilors had convened via hologram to coordinate the rescue. Five knights (all the Jedi that could be spared) had been dispatched to the planet Entiia to investigate the kidnapping in collaboration with the 212th battalion. A team of communication technicians was currently trying and failing to track the holo signals back to their source. Another team of service members was given the impossible task of managing the mass of hysterical people who had gathered before the Jedi Temple, rallying in support of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“How long can he hold out, Healer?” Anakin heard himself ask.

Healer Liang-Koru had been summoned due to her specialty in human reproductive physiology. The healer was a human female who looked to be in her ninety’s. “Perhaps two or three more hours, maybe four. Being cut off from the Force might shorten the timeframe.” The Healer tucked her hands into her sleeves and shifted onto her right foot. “But he must complete copulation. Lesser people have gone insane in shorter time.”

 _Breath in, breath out_. Anakin released another wave of anguish into the Force as he processed the answer. “But is that such a foregone conclusion? Omegas make up a large portion of the population. Surely they can’t just all go insane when they…” he swallowed convulsively “…can’t satisfy their Heat.”

The Healer laid a sympathetic hand on Anakin’s flesh arm. “Omegas used to make up half the human population. The proportion decreased precisely because many do not survive to reproductive age.”

“Obi-Wan will not give in. I know him. He will die before he does something like that.”

Even as Anakin said so, he questioned himself. Four hours ago he had never known his former Master to be an Omega, had not even thought about Obi-Wan’s sexuality except as a passing curiosity. Beneath all his helpless anger and frustration at the situation, he felt a nagging sense of betrayal that he never learnt of Obi-Wan’s orientation before. It was an ugly feeling, gnawing at his insides even as he delved further into the Force to locate Obi-Wan.

“He won’t have a choice,” Healer Liang-Koru murmured. “The urge is great enough as it is. Since it is Master Kenobi’s first actual Heat, it would be doubly excruciating. For his sake, I hope he gives him.”

Anakin’s head snapped up at that. “You meant he had never experienced a Heat before?”

“Only a partial one. Normally I would not disclose personal information like this…” Liang-Koru replied, hesitating, “but the circumstances seemed to call for it. He went into his first Heat at fifteen, during a diplomatic assignment on Jalarenn. Master Qui-Gon placed a Force-induced coma on him and kept him sedated until they returned to the Temple. A combination of hormone treatments stabilized his condition. Master Kenobi has used an implant ever since.”

Any further questioning from Anakin’s part was interrupted by a groan. It was a small sound, barely audible, yet it carried across the Council Chamber. A hush fell over the room. All eyes were riveted on the on the holo-projection.

While normal people might miss the miniscule movements, the roomful of Jedi saw the trembles clearly. As they watched, Obi-Wan suddenly tossed his head to the side as his back arched. He bit his lips hard as another wave of tremors passed through his body. After a moment, he sagged back against the metal supports, panting.

It seemed Obi-Wan’s kidnapper did not miss the movements, either. The masked man strode into the holo-projection, right into Obi-Wan’s personal space, and put his hand on his thigh. The knight jerked violently before glaring at the man. The man merely laughed.

“You are wet, Master Kenobi,” the man commented almost conversationally as he moved his hand lazily up and down Obi-Wan’s inner thigh, illustrating the lubricating fluid that was dripping down his leg. “Can you still deny you’re looking forward to a good fuck?”

“Mere physiological reaction to the hormones’ removal does not indicate consent. In fact – Ahhhh!” Obi-Wan’s curt reply was cut short as the masked man fondled his erection through the trouser.

The man snickered. He caressed the erection for another moment for so before moving his hands to Obi-Wan’s waist. He deftly unwound the sash and tugged off the tabards, before bringing out a handheld vibroblade from his pocket. With the blade he removed the knight’s boots, followed by his shirts, and finally his trousers and smallclothes. Within a minute, Obi-Wan was bared to the world.

Obi-Wan bowed his head in a futile attempt to hide behind his fringe. It was a motion so unlike his former Master, yet so incredibly human, that Anakin forgot his resolution to grant Obi-Wan privacy. And as he stared, Anakin could not help but note his former Master made quite a sight. As foreign and inopportune as the thought was, there was no other way to interpret the glistening skin, toned muscles and weeping erection.

“Gorgeous,” the masked man breathed.

He walked around the metal scaffold, appraising the bound knight from all angles. He stopped abruptly when he came to Obi-Wan’s back. The man made a surprised grunt. At the man’s gesture, the camera zoomed in to Obi-Wan’s lower back. There was an area of darker skin right over the coccyx. As the scene continued to enlarge, however, Anakin realized it was not darker skin. It was a patch of short, fine hair – and _that_ could only mean one thing.

“You’re kidding me,” the man said. “You’re a virgin.”


	3. "He"

_He_ touched his fingers to that patch of downy hair. Beneath _his_ questing hand, the young Jedi Master stiffened. _He_ could just imagine the Jedi’s struggle to hold back a whimper as _he_ trailed circular patterns into the virgin hair; it was known to be a powerful erogenous zone.

It was mind-boggling that such a delectable creature remained untouched for so long. Perhaps the Temple’s strict discipline and mental conditioning was really at fault here. Or perhaps the Kenobi really had reasons for remaining chaste. Such matters were not _his_ concern. _He_ was hired here for one purpose: to grind this man’s dignity into dust.

At the moment, the process was going too slow for _his_ taste. Most beings started begging within half an hour of the implant’s removal, and became incoherent under an hour or two. This Jedi had lasted four hours without so much as twitching a muscle.

However, not even a Jedi could override basic biological needs, it seemed. _He_ smiled as he shifted _his_ attention to the Jedi’s neck, lightly brushing the fine hair on his nape. Despite Kenobi’s best attempt to hide it, he was amazingly responsive. It was most likely the result of decades of Heat-suppression. _He_ wasn’t about to complain.

 _He_ did wish that _he_ could took off _his_ breathing mask though. Then _he_ would run _his_ tongue across the rippling cords at the Jedi’s neck, biting from time to time to hear him gasp. _He_ would suck and chew the Jedi’s nipples until this lovely man mew out his shameful pleasure. However, _he_ knew _he_ would lose control as soon as _he_ breathed in the scent of the Omega. For the sake of this job, _he_ would have to settle for using _his_ hands…and the tools.

With that in mind, _he_ started showering feather-light touches on all the erogenous zones. Earlobes. Flanks. Eyebrows. Buttocks. Fingernails racking down the back. Gentle strokes across the firm abdomen. The Jedi expelled a shuddering breath, but remained motionless otherwise.

 _He_ continued for long minutes before switching tactics. Kenobi’s eyes flew open when _his_ finger grazed the head of his jutting penis. Before the Jedi could so much as utter objection, _he_ wrapped one hand around the large erection and slid down, spreading the copious pre-cum with the movement. It was a good thing _he_ had used padded cuffs. The Jedi arched soundlessly, his spine flexing in one fluid movement, his hands clenching and unclenching as he strained to move away from the touch.

The touch seemed to reignite the Jedi’s reticence. “No,” he gasped, shaking violently, fresh sweating breaking out over his body. “No, no, no, please stop. No!”

 _He_ ignored the Jedi’s babble and brought another hand forward, setting up a teasing rhythm by gliding both hands up the shaft, making sure to rub the glans with each pass. Kenobi emitted a choked sob as _he_ focused on the corona and frenulum, tears welling from his eyes as he struggled in vain against his body’s traitorous reaction.

Still, Kenobi held out far longer than _he_ imagined possible. Except for the occasional bit-back whimpers and tiny spasms, the Jedi endured another twenty minutes of _his_ expert stimulation with pained expression and clenched jaws. A fair puddle was forming on the floor from the lubricant running down Kenobi’s legs.

The Jedi finally screamed when _he_ pressed against the perineum. Kenobi’s body convulsed as he went into orgasm. _He_ continued pumping the pulsing penis as _he_ watched the Jedi’s entire length quaked and quivered. It was only a partial ejaculation. A man in Heat could have no physical relief until he had the knot shoved up his ass, and any orgasm before that would only fuel the enflaming need.

 _He_ let go of the still erect penis when _he_ realized the Jedi had fallen unconscious. _He_ took out a piece of cloth from his robe to wipe _his_ hands clean. The blackout presented a welcome window of safety for _him_ to tend to _his_ feisty specimen. (Even tied up and deprived of the Force, _he_ had been warned, the Jedi could still pose considerable danger.) _He_ paused for just a moment to appreciate the man’s resplendence. The vulnerability inherent in the blotched skin and tear-wet face touched something in _him._

Shaking off _his_ momentary sentimentality, _he_ fished out a squeezable bottle and started feeding the Jedi water, careful to prevent choking the insensate man.

When _he_ deemed Kenobi to be properly rehydrated, _he_ took the bottle out of his mouth and squeezed the rest onto the Jedi’s face. As he had thought, the cold water instantly woke Kenobi.

 _He_ started speaking when _he_ saw the Jedi’s lashes fluttered. “How did your first orgasm from another person felt like, Master Kenobi?” _He_ paused, waiting for the other’s sluggish brain to catch on. “You seem to have enjoyed it, as has our audience, I’m sure. Who knew such a slut was hiding beneath the monk’s robe?”

It amazed _him_ that the Jedi found the strength to raise his head and stare into _his_ eyes. His voice was hoarse but steady when he spoke, “I don’t want this. I may not be able to control my body, but I do not want this. You have no right to lay a hand on my body.”

“Is that so?” _he_ sneered. “How many orgasms do you think you can stand, before you start begging me for relief? How long can you endure before you ask to be fucked out of your mind?” Without further ado, _he_ tapped a command into the remote. The camera drones moved to different angles. The scaffold whirred to live, reconfiguring until the Jedi’s legs were pulled up and positioned on either side of his body. The new position exposed Kenobi’s innermost orifice to the world.

 _He_ was really beginning to enjoy the Jedi’s anxious yet defiant expression.

From _his_ pocket _he_ produced the vibration phallus. Kenobi’s eyes widened at the sight of the toy. The silicone phallus was long and ridged, with a slender base designed to avoid inadvertently triggering an unwanted completion of the Heat. It had a long handle suited for external manipulation and more modes of vibration than the poor Jedi could possibly dream up.

Without preamble _he_ placed the head of the phallus on the Jedi’s anus and pushed. It slid passed the sphincter easily, thanks to the liberal amount of lubricant Kenobi had secreted. It went in for another centimeter or so before the Jedi cried out, shifting his hips and clenching his buttocks against the intrusion. _He_ let the man struggle against the bonds as he would, and continued exerting a steady force until the phallus was completely sheathed within the untried passage.

 _He_ contemplated the long phallus buried in this delicious man’s ass. The thought that _he_ was breaking the man in created a sense of excitement _he_ rarely felt while doing _his_ work. Another command tapped into the remote control activated the phallus. _He_ chose a nice, fast pace, determined to induce another orgasm as quickly as possible.

Kenobi made an inarticulate noise when he felt the first furious vibrations. His body froze. All fights seemed to desert him as the phallus moved relentlessly against his prostate. Mouth open in a soundless moan, he sagged back against the metal supports. His cock was again full and leaking as the phallus milked him.


	4. Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan was in hell. He had lost tracked of how many ruined orgasms he had suffered at the man’s hand. The masked man had alternatively let the vibration drive him to climax, or hand-pumped the phallus himself to achieve the same. And through it all, the man alternatively taunted him and soothed him, promising an end to this torture as soon as he gave in. _Just say Please_ , he whispered as he thrusted the phallus rhythmically against Obi-Wan’s prostate, _Say Please and I’ll give you the knot. Say Please and I’ll make you feel better._

Each orgasm was agonizing. His bones and muscles ached. His body felt simultaneously too full yet too hollow, his terrible need intensifying instead of abating. It was even worse when the man kept stimulating him as he convulsed. The vile pleasure merged into outright pain, overwhelming every shred of rational thought he had.

Obi-Wan must have blacked out again at some point, for he woke to the sensation of the phallus being taken out of his body. In his semi-conscious state, he let out a pitiable sound of relief.

His relief turned into terror when he spied the fuck machine the masked man had wheeled over. A monstrous, glistening phallus was mounted atop the machine. The contraption was positioned beneath him. His captor fiddled with the remote control.

_Don’t you want this all to stop, Jedi? It could be so simple._

_No. I don’t want this. Don’t._

He should be keeping track of his captor’s movements. He should be scheming his escape. But he could not think past the hunger that gripped him. Obi-Wan gathered the tattered remains of his serenity as the machine extended, breaching his tender hole and stretching his abused rectum. The girth of it was so large that he yanked his cuffs in an instinctive attempt to escape. A brush against his prostate sent a jolt of electricity through his spine. He tried to swallow a keening moan as he felt another gush of fluid welling from his gut. The phallus pulled out slightly, paused, pushed in. The friction was maddening. Inexorable.

His lips and inner cheeks were turning bloody from all the biting Obi-Wan had subjected them to. The Jedi Master understood the consequences of giving into his captor’s promise. If indeed the entire Republic was watching his sexual torture – and Obi-Wan had no doubt the Separatists had the technology for the broadcast – then it was imperative that he put up as much resistance as possible. If a Jedi General broke so easily under duress, all public support for the Jedi would be withdrawn. The Republic would have as good as lost the war.

Yet he also understood the ramifications of not giving in. It was his sanity on the line. To keep his attention away from what was happening to his body and to kept from thinking about the prospect of sexual gratification, he kept running through a sequences of memories. Practicing kata with Anakin. Discussing the Code with Ahsoka. Sharing a mid-meal with Mace and Plo. Visiting Dex in CoCo Town.

But the tactic was losing its effectiveness fast. Already he had been driven incoherent by the brutal fucking several times. The world fell away, leaving only himself and the device that filled him, only a weak-willed Jedi and the all-consuming Heat. Then when he grew cognizant enough to think, he could only dwell on the humiliation of having everyone, especially his brethren, witness his loss of control.

_And how would Anakin think! He is already so jaded, so cynical, his faith in me so eroded after his mother’s death._ Obi-Wan despaired as yet another thrust wrung a grunt from him. _How could I remain his friend after he’s seen me like this – reduced to a useless, whimpering mess?_

His career – as a diplomat and as a teacher – was at an end. He could no longer lead a troop, or negotiate a treaty, or even instruct a class of younglings. Those thoughts were as agonizing as much as the burning need within him. Obi-Wan blinked back tears as he shuddered again in equal pleasure and shame.

The machine sped up. At the same time, the masked man began fisting Obi-Wan’s erection in counterpoint to the phallus’ hard thrusts, sending spikes of pure ecstasies through him. Desperate to stop feeling the sensations that wrecked his body, Obi-Wan latched onto the last comforting thing he could thing of: Qui-Gon.

_No. I don’t want this. I don’t want you. I want my Qui-Gon here with me._

Qui-Gon’s hand, heavy and cool on his forehead. The soft baritone, murmuring kind words. Kind blue eyes peering into his own, checking for pupil dilation. What Obi-Wan wouldn’t do to have Qui-Gon put him under another Force coma! His Master had never judged, had never displayed a hint of anger, when his pubescent padawan suddenly felt the urge to climb into his lap. And afterward, when Obi-Wan had been safely sedated, Qui-Gon had stayed with him through the implant insertion procedure.

Qui-Gon had always made the worst situation tolerable.

Fire was in his veins. Obi-Wan burnt for the knot. More than that, he just wanted this miserable, impersonal rape to end.

He had learnt stoicism in his years as a Jedi, but he found himself unable to retain his detachment when his body was opened up and filled to the brim, his nerve endings plucked and played like an instrument’s strings. Obi-Wan longed for strong arms to hold him, blunt fingers to comb his hair, soft lips and rough beard against his face. His soul cried out for the man for whom he had remained true over these wasted years.

_May the Force be kind so that Qui-Gon never sees this._ With that last, feverish prayer, Obi-Wan succumbed to the devouring flames of the Heat.


	5. Anakin

A faint noise came from the medical bed. Anakin swerved around so fast he almost fell out of the chair he had been sitting in. Master Windu and Master Koon, who have been in a heavy discussion across the room, strode over at the sign of disturbance.

A pair of tired grey eyes blinked blearily up at them.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin exclaimed in profound relief. He reached out to touch his former master’s shoulder, only to remember the healer’s caution at the last moment. He withdrew his hands and place them in his lap. “Thank the Force that you come around.”

“Councilor, it is good to see you awake,” said Master Windu. The Head of the Order inclined his head as he came to stand on the other side of the bed.

“Wha…?” Obi-Wan started to ask, and then closed his mouth and swallowed as he realized how raspy his voice was. When he next spoke, he seemed unable to meet Anakin’s eyes. “What happened? Did I give in? How severe are the damages to the Order?”

Obi-Wan’s characteristic professionalism almost broke Anakin’s spirit. He tried to speak past the lump in his throat, but found himself unable to think of anything to say.

Master Windu took over the thread of the conversation, “You did well, Obi-Wan. You didn’t give in until we arrived. When we found you, you have already freed yourself and blasted your kidnapper across the room.” The master’s voice was steady and reassuring, his tale edited but truthful. Anakin had never felt such gratitude toward the Councilor than this moment. “There are some issues with the Senate and the Republic at large, but not nearly as severe as you might think.”

“Some issues” was probably the understatement of the century. The last time Anakin talked to Padme – a harried conversation – she revealed that many Senators were prepared to remove the Jedi from the army. Even worse, there were rumors of a bill to discharge all Omegas from the military. But Anakin would not bring these up. At this moment, nothing but Obi-Wan’s recovery mattered.

The news appeared to calm Obi-Wan, for he leaned back into his pillow and closed his eyes. Even after two days of unconsciousness, the man still looked fatigued. His pale complexion highlighted the dark circles around his eyes. “And I? How did I free myself? I don’t remember.”

The healer had also warned of missing memories. Yet the idea that Obi-Wan remembered nothing of his rescue was nonetheless…unsettling.

There was a pregnant pause as the three Knights exchanged anxious glances with one another. Finally, Master Windu replied, “During your torture you were building up an excess of Force energy. As far as we could tell, the energy finally overloaded. You destroyed the restrains and cracked open your captor’s skull. You were incoherent at that point, which is probably why you don’t have recollection of the moment.”

Obi-Wan had opened his eyes again. To Anakin’s distress, his expression was alert and serene. It was a façade Anakin had long associated with wariness and fear in his master. “What happened to me? What treatments did I receive?”

“Knight Skywalker’s team was closest to you when we found your location. You were closer to Coruscant than we thought,” spoke Master Koon. Of the three of them, he seemed the least disturbed by the circumstances. Then again, his species had no sexual variants. “By the time he had arrived, however, you have already withstood nine hours of maltreatment. At the point hormones no longer worked. Knight Skywalker did the only thing he could to stabilize you.” 

There must be some latent masochist tendency in Anakin that he had not known of before, because he searched Obi-Wan’s face as the implications of Master Koon’s statement sank in. For a fraction of a second his former Master’s face crumpled. Then the diplomat’s mask was slipped back on. Obi-Wan turned toward Anakin, a grim smile gracing his lips.

“Thank you, Anakin. It seemed you saved my life again.”

“Obi-Wan, I…” He stopped again. How could he confess to his own weakness, when his silence could ensure that Obi-Wan live in happy ignorance? How could he inform his master that he had fucked him as brutally as the machine did, not only because he wanted to provide relief, but also because he enjoyed it? How could he look at this man and tell him the bruises on his body were inflicted by his former apprentice in the throes of passion? Obi-Wan had gone through enough as it were.

Obi-Wan shook his head, halting Anakin’s struggle to put words to his shame. His smile became a touch gentler as he reached out and gripped Anakin’s hand. “You did what you have to do. I understand, and I am grateful.”

Without taking a pause, Obi-Wan pushed himself into a sitting position and swung his legs to the side. “Now, I just need a shower,” he announced to the two Councilors as he gingerly stood, a hand on the bedframe to help maintain his balance. “Then I can resume my duties. Of course, if the Council believe it best, I would submit my resignation and wait for reassignment. If not, then I can continue coordinating war strategies and tactics.”

Master Windu was visibly alarmed by Obi-Wan’s intention. It was an emotion that Anakin shared. “This isn’t necessary, Obi-Wan,” the Councilor protested. “You are on medical leave. You have as much time as you need to rest, meditate and recover from the ordeal you went through.”

“I appreciate the consideration, Mace, but this is war time,” Obi-Wan said as he gathered up the set of spare tunics and trousers beside his bed. “Now, I will find you in the Council chamber in an hour or so?”

Unable to object in the face of Obi-Wan’s determination, Master Windu and Master Koon nodded their acquiescence and bowed themselves out. Obi-Wan stared at their retreating backs for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before he resumed digging out his boots and finding some comb and razor.

“I’m sorry for what I did, Obi-Wan,” he blurted out.

Obi-Wan stopped rummaging in the bedside cabinet and looked at Anakin. His brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t think you should be,” he said at last. “I may not remember the event, but I heard what Plo said, and I know you. You did what you have to do, Anakin. I know you would have been kind.”

The fact that Obi-Wan was trying to reassure him made Anakin felt all the more miserable. Finally, he settled for the half-truth: “I heard you calling for Qui-Gon.”

With a small _clack_ , the vibrorazor was dropped back into the cabinet. Obi-Wan pressed a hand into his eyes as he came to lean against the wall. “I supposed the whole Republic has probably heard it,” he muttered, genuine regret coloring his words. “I am sorry you have to witness it. Any of it.”

Anakin looked at his mentor, unsure whether he ought to offer comfort or privacy. He was not even sure he had the right to offer succor. Eventually, he said, “I am being posted on Coruscant for next few weeks. If you need company, I will be here.”

When Obi-Wan failed to respond, Anakin stood up and took his leave. As he walked away from the Healer’s Hall, he again recalled the sensations of sinking into Obi-Wan’s Heat. The incredible tightness, the sweet Omega smells. The knot had slid in and locked. Master Obi-Wan had arched against him, wailing like a wild beast as he had come. The convulsions that ensued had been delicious. Then when Anakin had loosened his death-grip on his master’s hip, his hands had come away covered by a thin layer of downy, ginger-colored hair.

Just like that, he had taken Obi-Wan’s virginity.

For Obi-Wan’s sake, Anakin would never mention what had occurred between them. He would let the man keep believing that his former apprentice was kind and solicitous. But Anakin would not forget. This memory was his to keep. It was his one true possession.


	6. Mace

Mace found Obi-Wan in an isolated meditation room. The drapes were half-shut, allowing shafts of light to filter in the otherwise gloomy chamber. The Jedi Master sat lotus-style on one of the cushions, two objects placed before him: his lightsaber and a holo-projector. The projector was activated but paused, and a frozen image of Obi-Wan, bound and bared, loomed in front of his real counterpart. Mace was not sure which object disturbed him more.

However, standing by the doorway and looking at Obi-Wan in dismay would not help the man either. Sitting down on another cushion, trying to stare anywhere but at the naked figure in the projection, Mace spoke, “A datarie for your thought?”

He wasn’t expecting anything candid. Although Mace felt a friendly rapport with Obi-Wan, they were both private individuals. Thus, it came as a great shock when the off-handed confession came:

“I was wondering whether putting a lightsaber through myself would be best for everyone involved.”

Mace’s head snapped toward Obi-Wan, heedless of the projection. The rational part of his mind immediately noted the exact position of the two weapons in the room and calculated the best methods of overpowering the other man. Then he noticed Obi-Wan noting his reactions. The ginger-haired man quirked an eyebrow.

“Don’t be so alarmed. As the Council’s war strategist it is my duty to contemplate all possible recourses,” Obi-Wan held up a hand to forestall Mace’s objections. The sardonic smirk faded from his face as he assumed the air of a Councilor declaring his decision. “Because of the circulation of the recording, all Jedi are officially discharged from the military. The situation seemed beyond repair. However, if I could remove myself from the Order, either by death or by resignation, I could be branded as an outlier and thus creating a chance to salvage the Jedi’s reputation.”

The words were calm and measured. And they only fueled Mace’s anger. He could not believe that Obi-Wan would think so lightly of his own life. Then again, he had always been reckless. “And is this how you deal with the situation? By leaving it to others to put things back together? Where is your honor? Your sense of duty?”

The faint, sad smile creeped back again. Obi-Wan waved his hand, shutting off the holo-projector. “And that is why I cannot. Vile things have happened to many people through the course of this war. I’d set a poor example if I opt for the easy way out. I just…”

This time, Mace could see the struggles clearly. Obi-Wan had put on a brave face since he had woken up a week ago. He had seen to the Council’s matters, chaired the strategy meetings, volunteered for supplies coordination and even attended a press conference. He’d made his tireless presence available wherever he had been needed. Yet he could no longer be found in the salle, garden or the commissary. He had become a ghost within the Temple.

“You don’t know how you could go on. When you come across another person, you remember that they have seen your innermost self. You feel exposed, vulnerable, objectified.”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a long time. He dropped his eyes and nodded mutely.

A heavy sign left Mace at the other man’s defeated posture. “I don’t know how I could help you through this, except to tell you that I’m sorry for what you had to go through, and that I do not think any less of you because of it.” He paused until Obi-Wan looked up and caught his eyes before continuing. “And frankly, many people recognized that you faced a terrible situation and pulled through. In fact, our intelligence indicated that there are huge amounts of supporters for you in both Republic and CIS territories. Defending you have become one of the few things both sides could agree on.”

The last sentence elicited a surprised bark of laughter. Then Obi-Wan turned solemn again, “But what of the Republic, Mace? Pulling Jedi out of the war…may actually be a good move for us. The death rate has always been too high, the Jedi spread too thin. However, I could not see the Republic winning the war without our commanderships. If we leave…”

That was a good point, one that Mace had devoted days of thought toward. “At this point, there’s little we could do to reverse the tide. And frankly, I am not sure I am willing to support a Republic that is so quick to denounce a high ranking general because he was captured and brutalized.” He spoke slowly, sorting his ideas through as he went. “The system we’ve sworn to serve has been corrupted. Perhaps a more neutral path for the Jedi would be better. Master Yoda agreed.”

“But Mace…” Obi-Wan trailed off, unable to express his astonishment. Mace understood. He had always been the Republic’s most strident defendant. But he had also spoken the truth – he could no longer defend a government that’d sooner discard a rape victim than be associated with him.

“The Force will provide. Each difficulty brings with it new opportunities.”

When Obi-Wan smiled again, it was gentler, more genuine. “You sound just like him.”

There was no question which _him_ the younger man was referring to. Mace did not want to spoil the momentary levity between them, but he was also reluctant to stir up unpleasant memories. Obi-Wan’s … affection for his late master had been a quiet, well-shielded thing, but the incident had brought it to the forefront of the world’s attention. It had been the one issue Obi-Wan had refused to respond to during the press conference.

“Of course I do,” he replied mockingly. “Qui-Gon’s aphorisms robbed off on everyone. You’re one of the worst though. You really took after him. The way you talked, the way you moved…sometimes it’s like seeing that old gundark alive again.”

The silence that ensued was long and uncomfortable.

“I am not sure how true that is. Qui-Gon he, he wouldn’t have…that is…he never did…”

Pity for the young man gripped him as it never had before. It was a testimony to Obi-Wan’s strength and resilience that his doubts had not crushed him before. Now it was up to Mace to dispel those fears.

“Don’t you know that Qui-Gon loved you? He came to me, two years before your knighthood, to ask about bonding with an Omega. He wanted to know if his apprentice’s infatuation of him merely the result of their mind-to-mind connection when the boy first experienced his Heat. What laughable idea! And I told him so. He looked relieved and happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

Obi-Wan stared at Mace, speechless.

“And did no one told you how we have located you? Yoda, Skywalker and I were all searching in the Force for you. Yoda was the one that felt a presence in his meditation. It came to him and spoke in the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn: ‘He’s in the capital of Ganthel. Please hurry.’” Yoda had been unable to contact the erstwhile spirit of Qui-Gon since, but the brief communication had been enough of a proof that, somehow, that maverick had retained his consciousness beyond death. “Since we didn’t have any other lead, we followed. Then Skywalker found you in a docked ship in Ganthel.”

It seemed to Mace that Obi-Wan had ceased breathing after he reached the end of his tale. Then a tear slowly slid down his pale cheek, disappearing into his beard. Mace silently scooted over and laid a hand on Obi-Wan’s shaking shoulder, to lend his support as this poor, tormented soul finally grieved.


	7. Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan gingerly touched the twin fading bruises on his either sides of his waist. Three weeks after the incident, the physical marks were finally disappearing – not that there were many to begin with. The tongue that he had almost bitten through as well as the various lacerations in his oral cavity had been treated before he had regained consciousness. The soreness and fatigue diminished next. Then the implant had been reinstalled, in his left arm this time.

Now, only the bruises remained to show his captivity in the Separatists’ hands. But these bruises didn’t seem to have come from his captor. The masked man never gave his body anything but teasing caresses. These marks looked like handprints. He felt the urge to talk to Anakin about the them, but that was hardly something he felt comfortable asking his ex-Padawan. Because of Obi-Wan, Anakin had been forced into an untenable situation. If the coupling was urgent, even violent, who was he to begrudge Anakin a little resentment and even viciousness?

It bothered Obi-Wan that he could not remember the moment he completed his Heat. It was a milestone in any Omega’s life, and he recalled nothing of it beyond vague impressions.

Perhaps it was for the best. What little impressions he could gather disturbed him. Sometimes, in the middle of a meditation or a meeting, Obi-Wan could feel two strong hands, gripping him, crushing him to the floor. Sometimes he woke up, gasping for breath, feeling the phantom knot grinding into him, expanding, searing him and branding him from the inside out.  

An involuntary shudder passed through him. Just recalling any of the incident made him feel nauseated. _No, best let sleeping draigons lie_ , Obi-Wan thought as he drew on his tunics and arrange the folds. There was no time to ponder the past, anyhow. The Order was in an uproar since the field agents were recalled from the frontline. The war raged on without the Jedi Generals, but now both side seemed half-hearted as the losing systems began to surrender before invading gunships could even arrive. At the same time, a debate about the rights and treatment of Omegas swept through the Galactic Senate, one which looked to Obi-Wan to represent this oft-discriminated minority group. Obi-Wan had his plate full between all these obligations.

It was curious how something as insidious as a holorecording of torture could cause so much repercussions. After the video went viral, previously unreported incidences of rape and pillage in war-torn systems began to filter in. Perhaps Mace and Qui-Gon were right – good things might yet come out of this sorry mess yet.

Those thoughts occupied Obi-Wan’s mind as he made his way toward the Council Chamber. Pearly sunlight streamed through the arced windows into the deserted marble arcade. Dust motes swirled in the air and settled, noiselessly, on turquoise tiles. Obi-Wan paused. The Force was tranquil in this section of the Temple. He came to stand before the window, gazing out at the Coruscant cityscape at dawn.

“Thought I would find you here I did, Master Obi-Wan.”

He turned around and dipped his head at the small figure behind him.

“Good morning, Master Yoda. May I help you?”

The Grandmaster tapped the ground with his walking stick imperiously. Having long gotten used to the elder’s mood, Obi-Wan kneeled down and obligingly carried Master Yoda to the windowsill. Together they watched airships sailed by in orderly chaos. In a distance the Senate Rotunda gleamed.

“Time to learn new meditation techniques do you have?”

Obi-Wan blinked at the non-sequitur. “You know my schedule these days as well as anyone, Master Yoda. If these techniques are important, I will naturally find the time to learn.”

Master Yoda regarded him in silence, his limpid eyes searching Obi-Wan’s face. Whatever Yoda found seemed to please him, for he turned back to the traffic and croaked, “Ready to learn you will soon be. Three weeks it’s been since your return to us. Afraid and ashamed you still feel, but let your emotions dictate your actions you do not. Proud of you I am.”

There were no words for it. In all these years under Yoda’s mentorship, Obi-Wan could not remember hearing such praise. “Thank you, Master Yoda. As for the meditation techniques…”

This time Yoda’s smile was decidedly impish. “Important they might not be, but I thought interested in contacting your old master you would be.”

 _Oh, wonder of all wonders._ “Qui-Gon?”

The morning air was cool against his skin. The breeze carried with it the scent of exhaust fume and mechanical oil. The Force flowed through him, anchoring him, binding him to the moment as sweet realization sank in.

“An old friend has learned the path to immortality. One who has returned from the Netherworld of the Force,” Yoda confirmed. He patted Obi-Wan’s arm sympathetically, then hopped nimbly from his perch on the window. “Now follow me, Master Obi-Wan. Something to show you first I have.”

Dazed, Obi-Wan obeyed. They traversed the empty corridors, went down three lenthy flights of stairs and reached a heavy double-door emblazoned with the Order’s symbol. Without giving Obi-Wan a moment to hesitate, Master Yoda unlocked the door with a wave of his hands.

The door opened to one side of the Temple’s grand entrance. This place had been virtually unused during the long months after the battle of Geneosis. Now, sounds of low voices and soft footfall echoed off the carved stone wall. Knights and padawans milled about the majestic colonnades. Masters stood in groups of threes or fours, no doubts catching up after long absence. Children's laughter. Force-warm presences.

As Master Yoda and Obi-Wan stepped into the entrance, the Jedi that saw them stopped in their tracks and stared. Within a minute, all chatters died down, all movements halted. It was so unnerving to be on the receiving end of the Jedi’s collective regards Obi-Wan had to fight the urge to flee. The Force suggested courage. It was for that reason alone that Obi-Wan took another two steps into the hall.

“Master Obi-Wan, you’re here!” a birdlike voice cried. A young padawan – Caleb Dume, whom Obi-Wan had taught once or twice – burst through the crowd and threw himself at the stunned man. The fierce hug seemed to broke through everyone’s paralysis. As one the Jedi pressed forward and surrounded Obi-Wan. Some offered smiles and words of welcome, the others nods and bows. He caught flashes of his old friends' faces, but was soon swept up into the crowd. Obi-Wan was passed from embrace to embrace, until the scorched scars he carried finally began to fade.

"You brought us home," one of them breathed.

_Yes, it's good to be here. Regardless of the uncertain future, it's good to be here._

**Author's Note:**

> The story borrows heavily from the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. It is assumed that humans have three sexual variants: Alpha, Beta and Omega. An Omega in Heat will enter a sexual frenzy, and the spell can only be ended by copulating with an Alpha. The Alpha’s penis has a knot that locks into the Omega and facilitates completion. I left out Mpreg for this story, because not only would it not fit, the mechanism of the process also gave me a huge headache.
> 
> I should probably also clarify: in my idea the Jedi Order deals with sexual assault very differently. Knights and masters are expected to possess the emotional maturity to manage the emotional trauma of the event, and more often than not they do. That meant less blatant PTSD and more "these feelings are harder to release than usual, but I'll get there eventually". The victim's friends are usually supportive from a distance.


End file.
